


Birthing the Reaper

by took_skye



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Multi, Murder, Other, Pre-Canon, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Sexual Fantasy, Teenagers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/took_skye/pseuds/took_skye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The thoughts alone were almost too much to bear.  He could feel his breath grow heavier under his mask so that, when he saw his intended and ducked into a side street just a block from where they stood, he was practically panting...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthing the Reaper

**Author's Note:**

> Written some years ago for a kink-based livejournal community - prompts were: Devious, Guises and kinks were: Messiness and markers of arousal. 
> 
> This is a dark fic involving sexual pleasure from doing great violence to others, multiple murders, and spending time in the mind of a budding sociopath.

The thoughts alone were almost too much to bear. He could feel his breath grow heavier under his mask so that, when he saw his intended and ducked into a side street just a block from where they stood, he was practically panting. His undershirt clung to him with sweat and he smiled at the thought. Most would be nervous, but not him. He was excited, more excited than ever before. He took a deep breath in, holding it there, as the young couple passed...William and Martha. There really wasn’t anything special about either of them; George only knew them in passing the halls of their school before he’d chosen them. But then that was the point. No one obvious, no one who actually knew him or could ever be connected to him. 

George slipped out of the alley to follow. He pulled his black leather gloves on as they snuck out from the crowds towards a car parked on a side street where houses were dark and tourists didn’t travel from lack of interest even on Halloween night in Salem, MA. 

Funny how a place that so suited two lovers’ purposes also suited his. He smirked some as the couple entered the car and it began to move with the unmistakable motions of a sexual encounter. George stayed completely still, in the shadows, watching. He wasn’t a voyeur, nothing about his peers’ awkward pawings at one another’s bodies interested the seventeen-year-old, he was just waiting until they’d let their guard down enough to make the scare that much more powerful...that much better an experience for him. 

When he felt the timing was right he grabbed a small stone nearby and gently launched it over the car he was crouched behind to the couple’s car where it hit with a small “clink”. George waited a moment, but the two lovers took no note. How disappointing. He gave sigh under his mask and grabbed another, larger, rock. This one he threw with force towards the streetlamp.

“What was that?” Martha asked as the rock thudded the wood of the streetlight nearby. George felt his breathing pick up once more, his excitement rising with the fear evident in her voice as it flowed unevenly from a crack the couple had allowed in the car's window when they'd first entered.

“Nothin’ baby,” William replied, clearly not wanting to stop. “Probably just some animal or, ya know, idiot outside.”

“Well, go check,” she ordered, clearly not about to go any farther without confirmation it was safe outside. Martha wore the pants in the relationship...George would save her for last.

William mumbled a statement of acquiesce before heading out of the car. “There’s no one out here,” he commented, agitated, as he did up the fly of his pants. He looked back into the darkness of the car and sighed realizing he’d have to do more just take a quick look to satisfy Martha. He circled the car before asking to get back in only to be refused once again with further instructions. “Fine, I’ll go look over the other cars too then.” He began to head to the car behind where George waited.

_One, two...keep breathing...steady...four, five,_ George counted the footsteps out as he began to pant hard and fast, shift weight on the balls of his feet, in anxious need. He slipped the knife out of its hiding spot at his back and continued the attempts to control his breathing so William wouldn’t know it was coming. 

George wanted to see that shock, the shock of a star athlete coming face to face with a peer he wouldn’t normally give a second glance to. A peer who, in the end, William would fall at the hands of. As that jock turned to look around the back of the car George shot up faster than even he thought possible and slammed the knife deep and hard into the center of William’s neck.

William’s voice box gave a wonderful pop as it was penetrated, then there was just weak hissing sounds. He wanted to cry out for help, to warn Martha, to ask why. The terror and pain showed in his eyes even as he began to slump down, desperately reaching out for anything that might keep him upright. His attacker stepped back and watched behind a cold, blank, mask.

George slowly tilted his head from side to side as William hit the pavement. The blood was really starting to come now, alternatively oozing with spurts whenever the young man tried to talk. Focusing in on his victim’s eyes, the terror they expressed, George felt a shiver. 

He leaned down to get a better look and, with each bloody gurgle let out, he felt his own blood rush through his body. “Not bad,” he commented happily before frowning, displeased at not sounding fearsome enough. He cleared his throat and deepened his voice into a true threat. “Not bad.” This time George got the reaction he wished as his victim’s eyes widened in panic. He gave a dark chuckle. “Not bad at all,” the low growl edged on arousal as he watched. George’s heart rate soared while the other’s slowed to a stop. When confident he’d achieved his first kill he slowly stood up and took a deep breath to keep himself focused as the scent of William’s blood and urine, the graphic smells of death and fear, entered his nostrils. George’s eyes nearly rolled back in unadulterated ecstasy.

By the time he reached Martha she’d started to get out of the car, fixing her outfit as she called, worriedly, for William. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the man all in black. To her he was seven feet tall and a massive being...a true monster. Martha swallowed hard as tears welled up in her eyes. “William?” she croaked out, already knowing the answer to her question.

“William’s dead. I killed him,” the thin young man just a touch taller than his female victim-to-be growled out behind the black mask, his breath heavy as eyes scanned over her shaking body then locked into the blue pools of fear that were her eyes. “Are you scared? ‘Cause you should be.” He could barely get the words out as his voice thickened in primal need. He grabbed her by the throat and forced her into the backseat of the car, getting on top of her.

“D-Don’t...please...” Martha gasped for air under his crushing weight on her neck and chest.

He smiled as he felt her thigh muscles tighten under him. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna rape you,” he reassured in a coo as he shifted his body weight to keep her pinned down. He raised the hand that still held his bloodied knife for Martha to see.

She gave a grateful look, nodded...then she saw the knife as it dripped blood. William’s blood! She gasped and squirmed under her assailant in utter desperation to be free. But the blade entered anyway and she gave a pitifully weak cry of pain as she felt her side being torn open and her own tears start to sting her eyes.

George let out a moan as he felt the sudden warmth of blood through his gloves. It was infinitely better than the times he’d had sex, infinitely better than all his dreams and fantasies...it was the single most incredible thing he’d experienced. Heavy, labored, breaths came in pants and gasps as he pulled out and plunged back into dear Martha’s body over and over. He moved faster, building into an almost frenzy with the blade. As the girl’s blood pooled under them his pooled at his cock. 

Only physical exhaustion and the feel of the hot, sticky, release of orgasm coating his thighs and boxers made young George slow to a stop. He couldn’t say which wound killed Martha, but she was most certainly dead. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself before he crawled off her and out of the car, shaking in the after effects of it all. If he didn’t have to leave to avoid detection he’d have enjoyed a smoke and passed out on the lawn in pure bliss. Sadly he had to go, but he grabbed a memento to remember the night.

~~~~

He removed his black paintball mask and shirked off his water-resistant trench coat first, tossing them into his trunk. Then carefully tucked his knife and gloves under his spare tire before turning his sweatshirt right-side-in once again. He closed the trunk. It was a New England night and the abrupt change in temperature gave him a chill, then a rush, as his undershirt clung to his sweat-soaked body. He put his sweatshirt back on, Thayer Academy emblem in the front, and got in his car.

George dug into his pocket for the souvenir he'd taken and pulled it out. It was a watch, William's, no doubt taken off in his attempted exploits with Martha. George put it on his left wrist, enjoying the cool metal on skin still warm from gloves. He spent a full minute watching his own panting breath exhale in wisps of smoke before he felt clear-headed enough to drive.

As he headed down an empty stretch of Route 128 he smirked...this was the sort of seclusion he’d use next time. And there would be a next time. There would be many next times. He couldn’t give up a high like this, not ever. It was the first time in his life he felt...real. He turned off the highway at his exit, flying high on the rush of his night with the couple, and continued about three miles before he saw the blue and red flashes following him. 

“Fuck,” the teen cursed under his breath. He’d forgotten the speed traps always set up on holidays. He took a deep breath - _stay calm, they don’t know anything, they’ll never know anything because they’re idiots...they’re nothing compared to you, George_ \- and pulled over. He dug into the glove box and got out his license and registration, then his glasses for added effect. He rolled down his window. “May I help you, Officer?” he inquired politely as he intentionally fumbled to put his glasses on.

“License and registration,” the traffic cop ordered as he took them with barely a look. “You know how fast you were going?”

“No sir, I’m afraid I don’t,” George confessed. He’d been too busy remembering how Martha squealed in agony and horror while his knife sliced through her flesh.

The cop leaned down to peer into the car at its driver and smirked when his eye caught the emblem. “Thayer, huh?”

“Yes sir.”

“You been drinking, Foyet?” His eyes narrowed, his tone aggressive, as he tried to intimidate the truth out. He’d had his fair share of troublemakers from that school; rich little shits who went out, got drunk, and crashed their nice Mommy-and-Daddy-bought cars into minivans filled with families.

“No sir,” George replied, as if horrified at the thought and legitimately unsettled by the cop. He guessed the question came from his appearance; hair sticking up in some spots while flattened down at others, shirt more than a little wrinkled, and a fine sheen of sweat over his face. And so George created the perfect explanation as he gave a slightly sheepish look. “I was...studying...with my girlfriend.”

The cop laughed. “Studying. Sure.” He handed the teen his documents back. “Just try and stay under the speed limit, okay? No girl is worth the hassle of a ticket, trust me.” He teased before he headed back to his cruiser with a smile, glad to have pulled over a good kid for once. 

Young George Foyet smirked with pride. He’d gotten away with it. All of it. He really was unstoppable. Humanity didn’t stand a chance and, soon enough, they would all realize it. They would fear him, tremble at the mere mention of him, and no one would ever be able to stop him. Ever. He looked down at William's watch and took a deep breath in, exhaling in a moan of deep, all-consuming, satisfaction.


End file.
